Ngaio Marsh - The Nursing Home Murder

“Now you’ve hit the nail right on the head!” exclaimed Alleyn, gazing at her as if she was a sort of sibyl. “I felt assured of that. You know as well as I do, matron, that Sir Derek was a man with many bitter enemies. I may tell you in confidence that at the Yard we know where to look. We are in close touch with the Secret Service”—he noted with satisfaction the glint of intrigue in her eye—“and we are pretty sure how the land lies. In our midst — in our very midst, matron — are secret agents, secret societies, powers of evil known to the Yard but unsuspected by the general public. Mercifully so.” He stopped short, folded his arms, and wondered how much of this the woman would swallow. Apparently the whole dose.

“Fancy!” breathed Sister Marigold. “Just fancy!”

“Well — that’s the position,” said Alleyn grandly, throwing himself back in his chair. “But here’s my difficulty. Before we can fire point-blank we’ve got to clear away the other possibilities. Suppose we made an arrest now — what would be the defense? An attempt would be made to throw suspicion on innocent persons, on the very people who fought to save Sir Derek’s life, on the surgeon who operated, and on his assistants.”

“But that’s terrible!”

“Nevertheless it is what would happen. Now to meet that position I must have the actual history of Sir Derek’s operation, in all its details, at my fingers’ ends. That is why I have laid my cards on the table, matron, and that is why I have come to you.”

Sister Marigold stared at him so long that he wondered nervously if he had been inartistic. However, when she did speak, it was with the greatest air of earnestness.

“I shall consider it my duty,” she said, “to give you what help I can.”

Alleyn thought it better not to shake hands with her. He merely said with quiet reverence:

“Thank you, matron, you have made a wise decision. Now to come down to tin tacks. I understand Sir John performed the operation, assisted by Mr. Thoms and with Dr. Roberts as anæsthetist. Sir John gave the hyoscine injection and prepared it himself.”

“Yes. Sir John always does that. As I always say, he’s so conscientious.”

“Splendid, isn’t it? And Mr. Thoms gave the anti-gas injection. Nurse Harden brought it to him, didn’t she?”

“Yes, she did. Poor Harden, she was dreadfully upset. Sir Derek was a great friend of her own family, a very old Dorsetshire family, Mr. — er— ”

“Really? Strange coincidence. She fainted afterwards, didn’t she, poor girl?”

“Yes. But I assure you she did her work all through the op., quite as usual — really.” Sister Marigold’s voice trailed away doubtfully.

“Someone said something about a delay over the anti-gas injection.”

“It was only for a moment. She told me afterwards she was so faint she had to pause before she brought it across.”

“Yes, I see. Frightful bad luck. Nurse Banks gave the camphor injection, didn’t she?”

“She did.” Sister Marigold’s thin lips closed in a whippy line.

“And prepared the serum?”

“That is so.”

“I suppose I’ll have to see her. Between you and me and the Marble Lady, matron, she rather alarms me.”

“H’m” said Sister Marigold. “Really? Fancy!”

“Still, it is my duty and I must . Is she on the premises?”

“Nurse Banks is leaving us to-morrow. I believe she is in the hospital this afternoon.”

“Leaving you, is she? Does she frighten you too, matron?”

Sister Marigold pursed up her lips.

“She is not a type I care to have nursing for me,” she said. “As I say, personal feelings should not interfere with a nurse’s work, much less political opinions.”

“I thought she looked as if she was suffering from High Ideals,” Alleyn remarked.

“Call them high ideals! Beastly Bolshevik nonsense,” said Sister Marigold vigorously. “She had the impertinence to tell me, in my own theatre, that she would be glad if the patient— ” She stopped short and looked extremely uncomfortable. “Not, of course, that she meant anything. Still, as I say— ”

“Yes, quite. They’d say anything, some of these people. Of course with those views she’d loathe the very sight of O’Callaghan.”

“How she dared!” fumed Sister Marigold.

“Tell me about it,” said Alleyn winningly.

After a little hesitation she did.

Tuesday, the sixteenth. Afternoon.

The unbosoming of Sister Marigold was almost an epic. Once the floodgates of her wrath were opened the spate of disclosure flowed turbulently. Alleyn decided that in the Marigold’s eye Banks was a murderess. Derek O’Callaghan’s nurse had told Sister Marigold of Banks’s triumph at the news of his death. The theatre scally had lost her head and told everybody. At first, prompted no doubt by her anxiety to stifle the breath of scandal in her hospital, Sister Marigold had determined to say as little as possible about the unspeakable Banks. Alleyn’s hints that Phillips, his assistants, even she herself, would come under suspicion had evidently decided her to speak. She now said that Banks was obviously an agent of Sir Derek’s political enemies. Alleyn let her talk and talk, and contrived to remain brilliantly non-committal. He discovered that she had an excellent memory and, by dint of careful questioning, he arrived at the procession of events during, and immediately before, the operation. It appeared that the only members of the party who had been alone in the theatre were Phillips, herself, Thoms, and possibly one of the nurses. Mr. Thoms, she thought, had come out of the theatre into the anteroom a few moments after Sir John had prepared his syringe. When she had told him everything two or three times over, Alleyn said that he was a brute to keep her so long and could he see the private nurse and the scally. He asked her not to mention the result of the post-mortem. The scally came first. She was alarmed and inclined to shy off his questions, but quietened down presently and stuck to her story of Banks’s indecent rejoicing. She said Banks was always dinning Soviet teaching into the other nurses. She added nervously that Banks was a good nurse and would never forget her duty to a patient. She described the impedimenta that was put out on a side table before the operation — a full bottle of hyoscine solution, an ampoule of anti-gas serum, syringes, a bowl of distilled water. She was quite sure the bottle of hyoscine solution had been full. She believed that a small amount had since been used. She hadn’t looked at it immediately after the operation. This tallied with information already given by the matron. The scally herself had put all the things away and had cleaned the outsides of all the jars carefully. Matron was so particular. “No use looking for prints on this job,” thought Alleyn with a sigh. He thanked her and let her go.

Nurse Graham, O’Callaghan’s special, was then sent into the room. She came in quietly, smiled at Alleyn and stood with her hands behind her back waiting. She had blue eyes, set far apart, a wide humorous mouth, slightly prominent teeth and a neat figure. She had an air of repose and efficiency which pleased the inspector.

“Do sit down, won’t you?” Alleyn invited her. She sat down comfortably and didn’t fidget.

“You nursed Sir Derek, didn’t you?” he began.

“Yes.”

“How long was it from the time he was admitted until the operation?”

“Nearly an hour, I think. He came in soon after I went on duty at five o’clock. The operation was at a quarter to six.”

“Yes. Look here, Nurse Graham, will you tell me the whole story of that hour as though you were writing it down in detail?”